


A World of Time

by elem (elem44)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:29:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8109520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elem44/pseuds/elem
Summary: My second story for the Time on My Hands challenge on VAMB. Thank you again, LauaW. A great challenge that has spawned a deluge of wonderful stories.





	

They’d never had so much time on their hands – not since the Void – and no one had the heart to compare that nightmarish two months with this veritable cakewalk.

Crossing the borders of Ahina space had been a godsend. The local inhabitants, whose space and influence stretched for over three and a half thousand light years were a breath of fresh air compared to Voyager’s usual garden variety of Delta Quadrant first contacts.

For once, there’d been no exchange of weapons fire; simply a gracious welcome, a genuine interest in Voyager’s plight and heartfelt offers of assistance and support.

Even so, it had taken Kathryn and the crew several weeks to unwind. They were understandably wary after years of unprovoked confrontations and battles, but once they were past waiting for the other shoe to drop, they settled into a welcome routine of work and relaxation.

The prospect of three years of peaceful travel with regular stopovers for supplies and/or overhauls meant that Voyager’s crew were left with little to do other than routine maintenance. Consequently, downtime on the holodeck and evenings in Sandrine’s had become the regular haunt for the majority of off-duty personnel. Even Chakotay and Kathryn had fallen into the habit of joining their shipmates at the popular French bistro.

Neither of them made specific plans, but in unspoken agreement, Chakotay would pass by Kathryn’s quarters; ring the chime, and she would pretend to consider his invitation before accepting. If in uniform, she would slip her jacket back on in readiness, but if she were wearing civilian clothes – something that had become more likely over the last few weeks – she would quickly check her reflection, slip on her shoes and pat her hair into place before leaving her quarters by his side.

They would take their time, winding their way through Voyager’s familiar corridors, chatting about the mundane – Neelix’s plans for the latest crew diversion or the schedule for the next maintenance overhaul. But it was all a ruse; a clever ploy to cover their acute awareness of one another and the almost palpable resurgence of feelings that they both tried so judiciously to ignore. It had become a daring game of chicken; of unacknowledged touches, suppressed shivers and swallowed gasps. Alone in the turbolift, they would stand close, arms touching or hands grazing against one another, eyes straight ahead and the air thick between them. But if others were present, they’d move a little farther apart but still close enough to feel the warmth of each other’s body and risk the occasional brush of fingers against fabric.

This silent and secret courtship had been slowly escalating. Looks lingered, touches were more frequent – a stroking hand on his arm, firm fingertips against her lower back, a gentle shoulder press or her hand against his chest, his heart thundering under her palm.

It was a pressure cooker of suppressed desire and he should have known that the lid would eventually blow. The slow burn was bound to ignite into an inferno if left to its own devices and that’s exactly what happened one night after a raucous game of pool and several hours of relaxed conversation fuelled by too many snifters of brandy.

He kissed her.

He did it because it was all he could think to do – it wasn’t planned – but he had no choice. Well, that’s what he told himself. They were standing outside her quarters after arriving back from Sandrine’s and she’d turned towards him to say goodnight. The light of the corridor glinted off the blue of her eyes, her mouth soft and smiling, and before he knew what was happening, he was pushing her against the bulkhead, his lips on hers.

It had been a risk, a huge risk, one that he’d never thought he’d take, but then she responded – thank the spirits – and his heart soared.

A split second of surprise, followed by her body falling into him, a whimper and her mouth opened under his. Her hands sought the warmth of his skin, sliding around his neck, her fingers weaving through his hair – it was more than he could have ever imagined or wished for.

A heartbeat after he realised that she was kissing him back, he began cataloguing the sensations. Her body – wiry-strong under his hands, firmer than it looked in her uniform with the soft pillow of her breasts and belly pressed seductively into him, urging him to push harder against her. Her hair smelled of lilacs and her skin a mixture of fresh sweat and vanilla – Kathryn’s scent. She tasted of coffee and the brandy they’d shared and something else uniquely her. Her lips were pliant and warm as they moved confidently under his – there was no hesitation in her kiss, no regret.

He was quickly becoming lost in the sensations, and when her fingernails pressed sharply into the back of his neck in an attempt to drag him closer, he groaned, grinding against her and almost coming apart as she wrapped her leg around his.

It was all heat and want, taste, touch and need.

It was amazing.

The sudden whoosh of the turbolift doors burst through the quiet. She sprang away from him, her hand slamming onto the opening mechanism of her door, and before he could say a word, she disappeared into the darkness of her quarters leaving him standing there, flush-faced and staring. He slowly turned away from her door, nodding to a bewildered looking crewman before making his way in a daze along the corridor to his quarters.

It wasn’t until his door hissed shut behind him that he shook himself back to reality. Fingertips on his lips, he could still feel the dampness of her kiss; he could taste her and feel the tingle of her mouth on his, and the outline of her curves pressed into his arms and against his body. He could hardly believe it had happened, but they, and the universe, had survived their first kiss. He was elated.

He wanted her – not that that was news, he always had – but now that he’d breached the barriers, he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t un-ring the bell of their mutual need and, dare he say it, love. He wasn’t sure if he should comm. her, or better still, go back to her quarters and see where this new world of want would take them but he did neither. Instead, he revelled in the sweet tension of this new intimacy and slowly prepared for bed. He was still baffled, though. Why had she let him kiss her when, for the last almost seven years, she’d religiously kept him at arm’s length?

He wondered what tomorrow would bring. Would it herald a new phase in their relationship, or would she push him away, slam the old barriers in place and pretend that it never happened or simply throw him in the brig to rot for the next thirty years?

The astonishing thing was he couldn’t bring himself to care. She’d kissed him back! He hadn’t imagined it. Lying in his bed staring at the ceiling, he bit his lip and grinned.

Kathryn had kissed him back.

* * *

The following morning he arrived on the Bridge moments after Kathryn, but there was no time to speak to her alone, no time to connect.

Adding to his frustration, a surprise visit from an Ahinan diplomat kept her busy for the next several days and apart from a few near touches, shy glances and lingering stares when they thought no one was looking, he could almost believe that the kiss hadn’t happened.

Almost.

Five days later, after farewelling their Ahinan visitor, Kathryn caught Chakotay on his way to Sandrine’s. “Do you mind if I join you, Commander?”

His grin was his answer but he was stunned into silence by the look she gave him as she swept past him into the turbolift.

This time they didn’t make it to Sandrine’s. They barely made it to her quarters.

Stumbling through the doorway, she was in his arms and pressed up against the wall before the door had time to slide shut behind them; her lips seeking his, her hands pulling at his jacket and tugging at his tee.

Those hellish uniforms were like goddamned Chinese puzzle box – all hidden zippers and buttons and pulls – impossible to navigate while your eyes were closed and your lips locked onto those of your captain as you desperately tried to reach skin.

As her teeth grazed across his neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh, he gave himself full marks for remembering to engage the privacy lock before they slowly sank to the floor.

Chakotay’s last coherent thought as his hands slid under her tee and over the warm skin of her back was that no matter what anyone said, all the time in the universe would never be enough. Never, ever enough.

 

fin


End file.
